


In The Night

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 17 and 26, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Recovery, psychiatric hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:39:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He buries his tired face in the crook of Louis' neck before mumbling, "I want to be happy again."</p><p>Louis' heart breaks, bringing a warm hand to wrap it around Harry's waist. Screw the no physical contact rule.</p><p>"I know love. You will, I <em>promise."</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harry loses his family and his ability to feel emotion, but his psychiatrist, Louis, tries to help him feel again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic contains character(s) who suffer from a mental illness, and character(s) who show characteristics that could be triggering to some.
> 
> So please, if you are sensitive or triggered by said things, don't read.
> 
>  
> 
> The poem is actually lyrics from the beautiful song "Be My Angel" by Mazzy Star.
> 
> With all of that cleared, enjoy!

It's been four weeks, three days, and two hours since it happened.

Harry remembers it like it had just happened a few days ago, watching his mum Anne and his sister Gemma pulling out of the driveway.

They had smiled at him, a happy and warm smile as Harry waved back while standing by the door of his home.

They were only going to grocery store, they weren't supposed to die.

Anne hadn't seen the red car rushing quickly towards them, making zero attempt to stop. She hadn't even bothered to look that direction, but once she did, it had been too late.

The speeding red car collided against Gemma's side, a loud banging noise echoing throughout the neighborhood.

Gemma had died instantly at the impact, according to the police reports.

His mum had lived for a few minutes until her weak body gave out, leaving her only son behind.

Harry couldn't process what he had witness, and collapsed on the floor unconscious.

When he had woken up, he was in a hospital room with strangers.

All he wanted was his mum and sister.

The doctors had carefully explained to him what happened, and Harry kept staring blankly at the white wall in front of him, not believing a word he was hearing.

He didn't speak to anyone for days, refused to eat anything or even look at anyone. 

After two weeks, the doctors decided to put him in a mental hospital with the promise that he'd get better.

He hasn't gotten better.

He blames the atmosphere in the hospital, the suffocating air filling in his lungs. He's surrounded by people who have their own problems, people who feel like life isn't worth living.

Harry is surrounded by people like himself.

Except, each person has a different story. One of the girls Harry had encountered a couple times, Kristen was her name, said she ended up there because she grew up with a physically and emotionally abusive father that tormented her for years. 

"He made me hate myself." Kristen had said to a silent Harry. 

Although Harry didn't hate himself like Kristen did, he felt somewhat connected to her. They both were emotionally scarred in different ways.

There was another person, Zayn, the dark haired boy who had outbursts of anger at seemingly random times. He suffered from bipolar disorder, Zayn had told him.

He never yelled at Harry though, but Harry watched as Zayn would shove people in the halls for 'walking too close' or 'talking too loud.'

Harry wasn't afraid of Zayn like everyone else in the hospital was because Zayn was his only friend here, the only person he has spoken to since he got placed here.

Since Harry's arrival, he cut off contact with everyone. He refused to accept Niall's phone calls and visits, refused to even look at the doctors and nurses that would walk into his room to change the sheets or give Harry a fresh pair of clothing.

There was one nurse though, Liam Payne, Payno they called him. He had walked into Harry's dorm with a big grin and the corner of his brown eyes wrinkled with content.

"Hi there Harry." Liam had greeted him, leaving a tray filled with buttermilk pancakes and a glass of milk. Harry was actually surprised the food in this place was good, too bad he wasn't hungry. 

Liam sat at the edge of Harry's bed, smile not leaving his face.

"I know you won't talk to anyone, but you could always talk to me alright? Think of me as your mate, a friend you can count on." Liam said, patting Harry's shoulder lightly.

Harry took the words into consideration, after all the guy didn't seem like a bad person at all. He seemingly wanted to help, and Harry appeciated the effort. He made a mental note to ask for Liam if in case he ever needed any help.

The hospital itself is dull, and achingly frustrating to be at. He feels a lot like he's being held captive, forced to become someone he can no longer attain to. 

Harry has tried to find himself, put himself back together, but it only makes his pain worse, makes him realize how broken he really is. 

Which is why he's been assigned a psychiatrist to talk to. Harry didn't oppose to the idea, even though he doesn't like it one bit. He knows psychiatrists don't really care for Harry's well being or state of emotion, it's their _job._ They're paid to talk to messed up people like Harry.

Despite it all, his appointment is on Wednesday, right after lunch time. He was told that the doctor was named Louis, and that he was the youngest psychiatrist they've had at the hospital.

Harry didn't understand why that information was any relevant, but he listened anyway.

The night he was told about seeing a psychiatrist, Harry was able to sleep, and dreamt of his mum and Gemma.

Since they died, Harry has dreamt about them three times. Each time was a different scenerio, and they were all happy.

There was one dream where Harry was at home, playing monopoly with Gemma in the living room. Harry recalls winning her, jumping up in happiness and triumph.

At least he could be happy in his dreams.

 

*

 

Louis was giving the description of the patient, and his situation.

His full name was Harry Edward Styles, seventeen years of age. Diagnosed with Major Depression, he refuses to speak, refuses to eat at given times or at all. Has trouble sleeping and doesn't interact during social hours.

Louis continues reading, and feels crestfallen when he reads the following lines:

_"Witnessed his mother, Anne Cox 42, and sister, Gemma Styles 19, die in a car accident in front of their home."_

Louis can only imagine how terrible the boy must've felt. He can't even begin to describe how horrible I'd be if Louis had gone through something like that. 

He loves his mum, Jay, and his younger sisters more than he loves himself. He can't stand the idea of losing them, let alone see them die.

Louis sighs, putting the paperwork back into the beige folder he was given. 

He puts it under his arm as he grabs his car keys and drives to the hospital for his session with Harry Styles.

 

The air is cool when Louis walks into the front door. He's met with a blonde nurse who kindly greets him as she takes him to an even colder room.

And there sits a beautiful, sad boy with the greenest eyes Louis has ever had the privilege to see.

Louis smiles at him as the nurse dismisses herself, closing the door behind Louis with a soft click.

The boy looks away as soon as they make eye contact, and Louis wonders if the boy is naturally shy or just nervous.

Louis takes a seat across from the mysterious boy at the squared table, setting the folder and notebook on it.

"Hello Harry, I'm Dr. Tomlinson. But feel free to address me as Louis." He greets, earning a small nod from the younger boy who refuses to make eye contact.

Louis still accepts that as a response, at least he knows that Harry is listening.

"Harry, is there something that's bothering you at all right now? Is there a reason why you're not making eye contact?" 

Harry looks up at that, shaking his head silently.

"What are you shaking your head at? Use words love. It'll be easier for me to understand you." Louis smiles at the boy to let him know that he can trust him.

Harry opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He shakes his head again.

"Are you having trouble communicating? Is there anyone here you talk to?" 

"Zayn." Harry finally says. Louis is taken aback momentarily by the low tone of the boy's voice, but otherwise doesn't show any reaction.

"How does Zayn make you feel?" Louis asks him, taking the black inked pen and jotting down the name _Zayn._

Harry shrugs, looking down at his lap. "He makes me feel like I can talk to someone. I can have normal conversations with him without it being an interrogation."

Louis looks up at Harry, feeling slightly concerned. "I want you to know that everything I ask you is for a reason. I want to get to know you, to open your mind in order to help you. You can trust me." 

Harry huffs out a breath at that, but doesn't say anything else.

"If there's anything you don't want to answer, feel free to skip the question." Harry nods. "How close were you and your family. With Gemma and your mother?"

Harry visibly winces when Louis mentions their name, his bottom lip wobbling subtly as he grips his knee.

"Take your time." Louis tells him softly, figuring that this might be one of the first times he has opened up to someone.

Harry tries to blink away the tears forming in his eyes as he answers shakily.

"We were pretty close. They were the only family I had." Harry tells him in a breathy voice. Louis writes down his words on the yellow notebook.

"Were there ever any complications? Any big fallouts you had with them?"

"Never." Harry says almost immediately.

"Describe your mum to me. How was she like?" Louis sits back against the chair, looking at the curly haired boy in front of him.

Louis doesn't really notice this in his patients because quite frankly he shouldn't, but the boy has very beautiful features that make it hard not to. His lips, a dark shade of pink, compliment his pale skin perfectly. His curls look soft and fluffy, Louis imagines that running his fingers through his hair must feel like heaven. 

The boy is beautiful, Louis concludes. He pushes away the odd thought to the back of his mind, attention back on the session.  

Harry sighs, a very faint, sad smile tugging on the corner of his lips. It's not enough to actually be considered a smile, but it still counts.

"She was the best mum in the world. She loved and cared for me and my sister like no one else." Harry recalls, closing his eyes as the salty tears stream down his face.

Louis smiles at Harry warmly, glad that this boy is expressing emotion both physically and verbally.

Most of his patients refuse to talk to him the first session, bottling up every dark thought that had built within them. But Harry, he's different.

"I can imagine. What about your sister, Gemma?"

"Gemma... she was a pain in the ass sometimes." Harry lets out a small chuckle at his own words. "But I loved her nonetheless. She was the person I looked up too."

Harry's demeanor falls, face crumpling up that it hurts Louis to witness such sad thing.

"I miss them so much." Harry's body trembles as he cries, setting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. "I want them back. I want them back-" He lets out a choked sob, pale face turning red as he continues to cry.

Louis' lips are pressed into a sad, thin line as he watches Harry break down in front of him. He's seen his patients cry like this, some have even thrown chairs across the room. But never has he felt so emotionally devastated to see them like he is with Harry. 

Harry doesn't deserve to be sad, no one does. Louis hasn't even known this boy for more than an hour and all he wants is for him to smile, to be happy. 

Louis wants to reach out, to hold him in his arms and tell him that it's going to be okay. But he knows he can't, there are restrictions between psychiatrists and patients. He isn't allowed to physically touch them, since they're prone to emotional attachment. Louis doesn't want to hurt Harry, he's fragile and so, _so_ young.

Louis sighs, handing Harry the tissue box sitting conveniently over the table.

Suddenly, Harry gets up from his chair, mumbling a soft sorry before leaving the room.

Louis is shocked to say the least, feeling sort of empty handed. 

He grabs his things before exiting from the same door Harry had left, and into the hall.

The halls are empty, and everything is quiet. He wonders where he might've gone.

Louis would go look for him, he really would, but the problem is that Louis really needs to take a piss, so he walks to the last door on the end of the hall with a sign that says 'bathroom'.

As he opens the door, he wasn't expecting to find Harry sitting against the wall with his knees up to his chest, sobbing quietly into his thighs.

When the door shuts behind Louis, Harry looks up startled, eyes widening at he stares at Louis.

He walks over to him, sliding against the wall and sitting beside the young boy. 

Harry only stares at him blankly, and hesitantly rests his head on Louis' shoulder as he continues to cry.

Louis has never had a patient like this, someone who's willing to trust Louis so much as to lie their head on him. But it's nice, and if it makes Harry feel slightly better then he's all for it.

They sit like that for a moment, Harry's sniffles echoing throughout the empty bathroom. He buries his tired face in the crook of Louis' neck before mumbling, "I want to be happy again."

Louis' heart breaks, bringing a warm hand to wrap it around Harry's waist. Screw the no physical contact rule.

"I know love. You will, I _promise."_

 

*

 

Their next session was a week later, and Harry had mentally prepared himself for it.

Harry didn't want to admit it, but he liked the physical closeness he had with Louis in the bathroom. It made him feel warm and safe, just like he used to with his mother.

Another thing Harry didn't want to admit, not even to himself, was that Louis was attractive. He had blue eyes, like the sea, and a beautiful smile that made crinkles by his eyes.

The thought of seeing Louis later on made Harry feel an odd, pulling feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Well _that's_ new.

When Louis arrives, he gets questions asked continuously, how his childhood was like, what had happened to his father, and things along those lines.

Harry answered them all, and managed not to cry when he was talking about the last memory he had with Anne and Gemma.

He also got to talk about Niall and how he's the only true friend Harry's ever had.

As usual, Louis listened and took down notes on his yellow notebook. 

They didn't talk about what happened in the bathroom, didn't even pretend it happened. 

A part of Harry hurts, he doesn't know _why_ , but its not like he understands most of his unwanted feelings anyway.

The session ends with a brief goodbye and Louis telling him that he's proud of him for speaking up.

Harry smiles for the first time in weeks.

 

*

 

Harry looks at himself in the mirror for a few more seconds until he hears a knock at the door, pacing over to his seat and looking as casually as he can.

Louis walks in with a smile, wearing black suspenders over a white button up shirt.

Today, his hair is styled into a fringe, and he's wearing glasses. Harry thinks they make him look older in way.

"Hello there." Louis greets him, sitting across the table. He has the same beige folder and yellow notebook he's been bringing these past weeks. This is their fourth session now, and Harry has honestly grown used to seeing Louis once a week.

He still feels the same, numb and empty. He still continues to have trouble sleeping at night, missing the warmth of his own bed at home. Or what _used_ to be home.

The only thing that has changed since Louis came into his life is his social life. Harry has began to answer the nurses with words rather than a simple head nod or a shrug. 

It counts, he thinks.

"How was your week? Any new stories to tell?" Louis sounds genuinely interested, and even though Harry has nothing to say other than the fact that he wrote a poem during crafts, he still feels important.

He shakes his head, curls coming over his eyes. He brushes them away, finding Louis looking at him with a light, fond expression.

Harry wants to know how old this man is, what his likes and dislikes are. He wants to get to know this helping hand he calls Louis.

So he asks, "How old are you?"

Louis raises an eyebrow before clearing his throat. "I'm twenty six. Why the question?"

"You're always asking me questions. It's like you know everything about me but I know nothing about you." Harry knows he's made a valid point when Louis laughs and shakes his head.

"Alright Harold. What else would you like to know?"

He ponders for a few seconds, thinking up a good question that's not too personal but not obvious as well.

"What kind of music do you like?"

"I usually listen to bands like Vampire Weekend and The Vaccines." Louis supplies, looking at Harry with a grin. "What about you?"

"Indie, mostly." 

"Name me some." Louis sets down the notebook, propping his elbows over the table in interest.

Harry's cheeks feel hot as Louis stares him down. "Uh, I like Coldplay. They're pretty good."

"I love Coldplay." Louis says quietly, smiling at the boy.

"Yeah." Harry gets lost in Louis' eyes and how blue they look today, like Harry's never seen before.

Louis clears his throat, leaning back against the chair. "What's your favorite song?"

"That's kind of hard to choose."

"Not really. Personally, my favorite is Green Eyes." It takes Louis a second to realize what Harry might be thinking, and what that could've implied. He mentally slaps himself for it.

Harry's eyes widen for a moment and then he breaks contact again, just like he had done the first time Louis met him.

"I think my favorite is The Scientist." Harry says then, looking back up at Louis without any show of awkwardness. Louis takes a quiet sigh in relief.

"You have got good taste in music Harry. I like that." Louis tells him, making Harry feel that same odd, and now familiar feeling in his stomach.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

Harry nods, picking at his fingers. "I write poems sometimes, when I have nothing else to do."

"Really? Would you mind bringing one the next time we meet?" 

Harry worries for a minute, thoughts flooding his head at possible outcomes of this.

_What if he thinks they're stupid?_

_What if he laughs at them?_

"I won't judge, you know." Louis says assuringly, reaching a hand out to place over Harry's.

Harry nearly screams at the touch, pulling his hand away as soon as he feels the warmth. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach comes back, and Harry begins to shake.

Louis' expression falters, turning into something between sorry and concern.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Harry shakes his head as he gets up from his seat, rushing out the door. When he runs out, his limp body crashes onto a much bigger one, making him land on the ground harshly.

A blonde male looks down at him with fiery eyes, frowning. 

"Watch where you're going you worthless shit!" The male yells, leaving Harry shaking and sobbing on the cold tile.

Louis opens the door a few seconds later, eyes widening in fear as he sees Harry curled in on himself, face red and eyes brimmed with tears.

He crouches down, holding Harry against his chest.

"What happened love? Why are you on the ground?" Harry doesn't respond, crying harder onto Louis' shirt. He hiccups, feeling the warm arms of the older man below his back.

"I'm a worthless shit." Harry murmurs so quietly Louis could've missed it.

"No you're not. God Harry, you're not worthless. Why do you think that?" The desperation in Louis' voice is taunting and Harry doesn't know what to make of it.

He doesn't answer him, instead wraps his arms around Louis' shoulders and he cries, cries harder than he has since he arrived. 

Louis doesn't stop holding him, grip getting tighter around Harry's waist. 

He smells of strawberry soap, Harry takes notice as he buries his face onto Louis' neck.

"It's okay. I've got you alright? You're not worthless. I care about you princess." Louis murmurs, kissing the top of Harry's head.

Louis isn't lying, he really does care about for the young boy.

More than he should.

 

*

 

Louis hasn't stopped thinking about that day, where Harry called himself worthless.

It's been three days, and it constantly nags in the back of his head.

He doesn't understand how someone as beautiful and perfect as Harry would think so lowly of themself. He wants nothing more than to prove to him that he's wrong, that he's worth more than Louis could even begin to describe.

A part of him gets it, Harry is broken, he's vulnerable to situations like this. But it frustrates Louis so much that he can't fix him, no matter how hard he tried.

It's not like a toy that's run out of batteries where you can just replace them with new ones. Harry has lost the one thing that meant the world to him. He lost everything, and the saddest part of it is that he had to witness such tragedy. 

During these past three months, Louis has gotten closer to him, and maybe even grown some sort of attraction that makes Louis feel sick to his stomach.

How can he be attracted to someone so young and helpless, to his _patient?_ He shouldn't be thinking like this, he shouldn't have this need to kiss Harry better or to hold him while he sleeps. It's wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

Louis has tried to push his thoughts away while he's with Harry, but it's hard. It's hard to ignore how much he wants this boy to be his while he's watching him talk, voice slow like honey. It's hard when Harry has these beautiful, sad green eyes that Louis wants to see light up with happiness. It's hard when Harry has these pretty, pink lips that Louis would love even more if he smiled.

God, Louis is so fucked.

He knows that the one thing Louis can't do is lead Harry on. That's absolutely forbidden in the book of morals. He knows Harry's becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of being physically close, Louis can practically feel Harry's heart race whenever Louis touches him.

If comes the chance where Harry expresses his feelings towards Louis - if there are any - Louis has to say no. Tell him that he cares about him, but it's nothing more than a friendship. Even though it'll hurt, Louis has to do what's right.

He lies in bed, thinking about how tomorrows session and if Harry is going to bring the poem with him.

Louis tries to go to sleep, but all he can think of is _Harry_.

For the first night, Louis doesn't sleep.

 

*

 

_They say it's me that makes you do things you might not have done if I was away. And that it's me that likes to talk to you and watches you as you walk away._

_They say it's you that washes the way and brings the night into the day._

_Don't leave me lonely, don't leave me unhappy. Just bring me up into your faith. If you don't need me then don't deceive me._

_Just be my angel if you love me. Be my angel in the night. Be my angel cause you need me. Be my angel and treat me right._

 

Harry finishes the last line of his poem, feeling slightly self conscious over the fact that Louis is going to have to read it.

He purposely wrote this poem for him, hoping Louis understands what the meaning behind it is. He's unsure of whether or not he's doing the right thing, but it makes the feeling in Harry's stomach somewhat easier to manage.

Harry has finally understood his feelings towards the older man, and its all so new to him. 

Harry has a crush. An attraction towards Louis. And it's the first real emotion he's felt in a while. 

Louis gives him a light of motivation, and is the reason why Harry is eager to wake up on Wednesdays. Louis has helped Harry become more social and open about how he feels.

Most importantly, Louis _cares._  

So when Louis walks in the next afternoon, Harry smiles faintly, handing him the poem.

Louis reads it, eyes scanning from left to right as he mouths every word silently.

Then Louis looks at Harry with a distant expression, one Harry's never seen before. 

"Who'd you write this poem about?" He asks very monotone like, unlike how Louis usually speaks. Harry begins to shake in fear, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You." He manages to choke out, heart pounding harshly against his chest he can _hear_ it beating.

"Are you saying you have an attraction towards me? Because if you do, that's got to stop." And wait, what?

Harry winces as he hears those words, not believing they're coming from Louis of all people.

"Harry, do you have a crush on me?" Harry slowly nods, tears filling his eyes as he watches Louis sigh in disappointment.

"I'm sorry Harry. You and I can't have a romantic relationship. It's inappropriate and wrong. Maybe i should get you a new psychia-"

Harry rises from his chair with wobbly legs, fuming at Louis' words. How _dare_ he even say that? 

"You want me to distant myself from you? The only person in my life that I thought cared about me is telling me to walk away from them." Harry tries to raise his tone angrily but fails, voice coming out breathy and broken.

"I'm not telling you to distant yourself from me. I'm simply explaining how having an attraction towards me isn't right as a patient of mine."

"So what you're saying is that you don't think what I feel is right, because you think it's selfish of me? That I could ruin your career because I like you?" Harry can't stop shaking, the tears falling freely down his cheeks. 

"You're not being selfish-"

"Well you're not being fair! You told me you cared, you kissed my head and promised me that I'd be happy again. You made me feel something Lou, something that for _once_ since my mum and sister died wasn't pain." Harry cries loudly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

Louis can't bare this, he's always hated seeing Harry cry. And he hates it more now that he's the reason for Harry's tears

He's such a terrible, horrible person.

"Tell me something Lou. Do you feel anything for me? Do you like me the way I do?"

I don't like you.

I _love_ you. 

With every bit of might Louis has left, he whispers, "No."

Harry's heart visibly breaks, and Louis wants to cry and tell Harry the truth. But he can't. 

Harry nods in understanding, sniffling. "That's all I needed to hear." He says before storming out of the room, slamming the door loudly. 

Louis won't admit it to anyone, but the minute the door closes, he cries.

 

*

 

Harry didn't think he could possibly get worse, but he does.

He hasn't eaten in two days, and hasn't sleep in four, and this time he won't speak at all. Not even to Zayn anymore.

Ever since his embarrassing rejection by Louis, Harry has spent his days crying, and when he's not crying, he's reevaluating himself as a person.

Worthless.

Unloved.

_Alone._

God, he misses his family so much. They were the only people that would never dare to reject Harry, or pretend to care when they don't.

His mum would've told Harry she loved him, hold him close and kiss his cheeks. His sister would've called his obnoxious but still love him no matter what. 

But they aren't with him anymore, and he no longer has that love he once had.

He wishes he could be back at home, playing video games and laughing with Niall about how weird the neighbor is. He wishes he could tell his mum about his day at school, remind her about conferences and celebrate Harry's good grades.

Harry had a life once, a good one before it was all taken away by the accident. That life consisted of being happy and free-spirited.

He had no shame in the way he was, always with a smile on his face despite having an occasional bad day. At the end, he had everything he needed, so everything else didn't matter.

That life is gone now, and he can no longer get it back. What has happened is irreversible. He figures that's the worst part of it, not being able to change things to the way they were. Nothing could ever replace the empty hole in his heart, nothing will ever make it right again.

Being stuck at a hospital with people who only make him feel worse is his apparent life now. And he hates it.

He hates everything. He hates the white, dull walls of the hospital. He hates the nurses that bother him every day. He hates the people here.

He hates Louis.

 _God,_ Harry hates him most of all.

He burries his face in the pillow, screaming at the top of his lungs and letting all that built up anger go. As much as it hurts his throat, it's relieving to finally express himself.

The nurses walks in as Harry continues to scream.

They give him his pills, and tell Harry that it'll be okay and he'll be able to see Louis in a couple days.

Harry throws up and neither nurse understand why.

 

Harry is lying in bed when he hears the soft knock on the door. Liam walks in, unsurprisingly, wearing a smile. 

Except, Louis is following behind, so Harry gets up quickly, furrowing his brows as Louis smiles at him uneasily.

"Dr. Tomlinson had to miss your last session so he decided to come today last minute." Liam informs Harry, and Harry wants nothing more than to throw something at Louis. "I'll leave you two alone."

Liam walks out after that, leaving Harry and Louis alone in this small, tight room.

The smile on Louis' face has vanished, replaced with a sad, fallen expression.

"Harry I-"

"I hate you." Harry interupts, crossing his arms and refusing to look at Louis.

"Let me explain. Please."

"Explain what? Explain how repulsive I am to you? How you felt too disturbed by me you rather throw me off to another psychiatrist?" Louis sighs at Harry's stubbornness but mostly because he's got it all terribly wrong. 

Louis takes a seat at the edge of Harry's bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Harry, I care about you. I care about you more than you can imagine. You're hurting right now, and I've done all I could to make you feel something other than pain. You said so yourself, I have. And that makes me feel overwhelmingly content." Louis begins, voice soft and low, careful not to attract attention from the nurses into the room. They tend to be overprotective over the patients. 

"I'm not sending you away to another psychiatrist and I'm defininetly not repulsed or disturbed by you. You're _mine,_ my patient and more than anything my friend. And that poem you wrote for me was absolutely beautiful." Harry is still quiet, arms crossed and eyes focusing on the wall.

"And since I'm being honest, you should know the truth. You deserve it more than anything." That catches Harry's attention, uncrossing his arms as he glances over at Louis wide eyed.

"What truth?" Harry whispers.

"I only pushed you away because it made me feel like I was taking advantage of you without actually intending to. I didn't mean to make you cry, let alone hurt your feelings. I'm supposed to help you, not make you worse. And I went on and did just that."

"But you're not taking advantage of me Louis. You _are_ helping me, you _are_ making me feel better, even if it's a small change." 

"It's not just that babe, it's just that... I don't know how to say this." Louis feels so disappointed in himself for not mustering up the courage to tell the younger boy how he feels. 

"What is it Lou? You could tell me, like you said to me, you can trust me." When Louis turns to look at him, he's smiling, catching Louis off guard.

Without much thinking, Louis leans in and presses his lips against Harry's soft, pink ones.

His heart is racing, but his mind is only focused on Harry.

Harry lets out a small gasp, but he melts into the kiss, lips moving against Louis'.

When Louis pulls back, Harry's eyes are droopy, and there's still a smile on his face.

"Harry, I'm in love with you. I'm in love with every piece of you and I want to make you feel better."

Harry wraps his arms around Louis' neck, pulling him close until their noses brush against each other. 

Shocked, Louis sees tears in Harry's eyes, but they seem to be filled with content and relief. 

"Make me feel better then. I wanna feel something different. I'm tired of feeling like this Lou." Harry presses his lips against Louis' neck. "I wanna feel better."

As much as Louis would like to make love to Harry, he can't. One, because they're in a hospital. And two, Harry's underage.

Louis smiles against Harry's hair, leaving a chaste kiss before pulling back.

"I'll make you feel better princess, but there are ways I can without having sex."

Harry presses his lips together in a tight, white line. "Do you not want to have sex with me?"

"No, no I do." Louis laughs. "I'd love to, but you're still too young and you're not emotionally ready for something so powerful." 

Harry seems to understand, nodding before smiling at Louis. 

"Hey Louis?"

"What is it babe?" Louis puts two hands on either side of Harry's head.

"I love you too." 

Maybe that's their first step to recovery, Louis thinks.

 

* 

 

It takes a lot of time and effort for Harry to recover.

He doesn't fully recover, always feeling that empty space in his heart that his mum and Gemma left. Nothing will ever fill that empty part, because a mother and sibling's love could never be replaced. And Louis gets that.

Harry starts to smile more, and laughs at Louis' stupid jokes whenever they're in session. Harry finally opens up completely about his feelings, whether they're positive or negative, Louis is always there to listen.

They make their relationship official two weeks after Harry leaves the Psychiatric Hospital. Harry is eighteen at the time, and staying with a cousin that lives in the same city.

Louis visits him everyday, reminding him how beautiful and how loved he is by Louis.

The first time they make love, they're in Louis' bed, and Harry enjoys every second of it.

When he comes, he cries, but Louis holds him close, and Harry promises that they're happy tears.

Harry continues to cry sometimes when he finds himself looking at the picture of his mum and sister in a frame.

He cries because he can't tell him mum that he's finally found someone who loves him just as much as she once loved him.

Louis comforts him, kisses him and holds him until Harry finally stops crying.

They're okay.

Harry moves in with Louis when Harry turns nineteen, and Louis finally feels at ease, just as much as Harry.

When the two year anniversary of his family's death comes, Harry finally gets the strength to go visit their grave for the first. 

Harry cries harder than he has in over a year.

Louis promises that one day he'll get to see them again, and they're watching over him every minute.

Harry smiles because he knows Louis is right.

 

It's two years, five months, one week, and three days since it happened.

 

And Harry finally feels happy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the ending seem rushed, but this was meant to be a short one shot. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! Thank you! :)


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